


Routine

by lopipastarling



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Failure to maintain character, M/M, Phone Sex, Silver Fox
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lopipastarling/pseuds/lopipastarling
Summary: Jeff calls Tom once a week.





	Routine

"Tom!" Jeff says, and reclines happily on the couch. 

"Right on time, as usual," Tom says, sounding like he just woke up. "My Thursday mornings were never this interesting before, you know." 

"I live to be the excitement in your life." Jeff means every word, too. There's not much else to get joy from these days, so making others happy is basically the best thing ever. "Ready to hear about my favorite art of the week?"

Tom yawns, on the other end, and those softer sounds are definitely him shifting around in bed. Why is he still abed at eleven in the morning, anyway? "Is it us again?" 

"Yes!" Jeff says happily, with a triumphant laugh. "It's so delightfully simple, only a sketch, but they've rendered the stubble on poor lost Loki's jaw so lovingly. And they seem to have some rather strong opinions on the length and girth of my instrument, which I don't mind, of course, but--" 

"Why is it always me blowing you?" Tom asks, voice sounding sleepy. 

"Because I'm the Grandmaster," Jeff says. It's obvious, of course, the inherent power dynamics, but it seems odd no one wants to see Loki in a position of power, it's true. "I did see one with us switched, but it wasn't explicit." 

"Oh," Tom says. "I mean. If Loki was the Grandmaster and the Grandmaster himself was the lost soul, I do think Loki would be _getting_ a blow job for once." 

"Perhaps," Jeff says, trying to decide if he can imagine the Grandmaster ever getting on his knees. It's difficult, but for the right game, for the right price, he would. Especially for Tom. 

"Right," Tom says, and sighs. It's breathy, but he did just wake up. "So the Grandmaster would never, uh--" 

"Fellate?" Jeff asks. "I think he would. Could. For someone like Loki, too, who's so--" Jeff clicks his tongue, makes a motion with his hand. "Confident. So confident in himself. I can see the Grandmaster doing rather a lot for his disciple."

Tom hums, the way he often does when he's only halfway paying attention. There are similar sounds to earlier, the slide of cloth on cloth that alerted Jeff to the fact that Tom was still abed, and now Tom's breath hitching in time. 

"Why--" Jeff laughs, shakes his head. "Tom, are you masturbating?" 

"If you don't want me to, you'd best tell me to stop now," Tom says, sounding like himself but more languid. His accent stretches out syllables beautifully, adding just the right bits of breathiness. 

Jeff considers for a moment, then sits back on the couch, looking at his own empty living room and deciding why the hell not? "I wouldn't dream of it, but it seems odd to me. Yes. Quite odd--before we begin--you've failed to answer the most essential question."

"Which question is that?" Tom asks, voice a low purr that makes heat begin to unfurl in Jeff's belly. 

"What are you wearing?" Jeff asks, pitching the question in his best Grandmaster voice. 

Tom laughs, but it's low and sultry and better than Jeff could've imagined. "Nothing, actually. I'm still abed, if you recall."

"So I can't tell you to take anything off, or slide your hands under your clothes," Jeff says, musing aloud more than anything. "I'll just regale you with further details of fellatio, shall I?" 

"Please," Tom says, and sighs out a very soft moan. 

"So for me--myself--I'm out of practice. Haven't fellated in years. But the Grandmaster probably made a study of it. As the First Lost." In fact, Jeff has decided that it is true, as of this moment. And if the Grandmaster makes a study of anything-- "He'd be very, very good." 

Tom sighs again, the same moan making another appearance. "Tell me how he does it."

"He'd probably want to catch Loki off guard," Jeff says, closing his eyes, imagining it like a real scene with blocking but no cameras. "He might--oh, he could spy on Loki in the baths, intending nefariousness, and end up simply fellating him instead." 

"Sounds like a plan the Grandmaster would come up with," Tom mutters, but Jeff can hear the hitch in his voice. It's been so long since he's done this with anyone, but the sound is encouraging. It means Tom wants it. 

Or Jeff hopes he does, at any rate, or this is an odd escalation. "So he finds Loki, and Loki's what--oh, he's naked and fresh from the bath. Would Loki be confused to see him like that?" 

"The moment he gets on his knees, Loki stops questioning where things are going," Tom says, voice settling into a low but steady tone. 

"Ahh," Jeff says, and sighs happily. "I--the Grandmaster finds the sight of Loki naked to be captivating. Rivulets of water dripping down his chest are lovely--they are--but I find that I much prefer to bury my face in freshly washed pubic hair." 

Tom moans, the same moans of earlier, acknowledgement and praise wrapped together in a handy little package. The heat in Jeff's belly radiates. 

"The faint smell of soap and the musk of man, plus right after bathing they're always so curly. The Grandmaster does know how to tease a main event." 

"Are yours grey?" Tom asks, sighing out the words. 

"Salt-and-pepper," Jeff answers, unselfconsciously. "I want--" he clears his throat, and restarts. "The Grandmaster finds great pleasure in sucking Loki down until his nose is buried in damp hair. Isn't that a lovely image? Your cock, my throat." 

"Mmmmm," Tom hums, long and low and definitely in lieu of a moan. "More." 

"Your hands, my hair," Jeff says, his own cock for some reason choosing to get interested now. On the line, Tom's breath is coming quicker than before. "It'll be softer than you think. I've always wanted to be face-fucked." 

This moan is a surprise, loud, different from every one so far. "Jesus, Jeff, you can't just--" 

"Say things like that in the midst of phone sex? Of course I can." It's slightly offensive, that he should not, but off-camera professionalism went out the door between them a long time ago. "I can also say that I've always found your hands incredibly attractive--sexy, even. If it were us, and not Loki and the Grandmaster, who knows what would happen." 

"Tell me," Tom says, soft and needy. "How would--how would _we_ fuck?" 

Without thinking, Jeff says, "Messy. I'm always messier than I'd like to be." 

Tom moans, a low moan again, back to the usual. "Be specific. _Please_ , I just want--an image."

"Me on my back," Jeff says, eyes sliding shut again so he can imagine better. "Black satin sheets. You straddling my chest, hand in my hair, cock against my mouth." 

"Inside your mouth?" Tom asks. 

"Temporarily. You don't want to come that way, you'd rather--" Jeff can hear the harsh arousal leaking into his own voice, his own cock becoming more and more insistent the deeper into this he gets. He reaches down, gently rubbing the heel of his palm down the shaft through his dressing gown and boxers. "We both want you to fuck me, Tom." 

"Yeah?" Tom's breathing has sped such that it sounds like gasping out that single word was a huge task, so Jeff gives him what he needs. 

"Yes." Jeff sounds almost as breathy as Tom, but it's not necessarily a bad thing. One might hope that Tom enjoys Jeff's breathiness with the same avaricious appetite that Jeff enjoys Tom's. "I--quite like to be held down, I find. There's nothing so exquisite to me as being pinned to the bed by a friend." 

The sound Tom makes starts low but is broken by breath and pleasure into something unsteady and high. Beautiful. "I want your cock pinning me to the bed. Your hands on my hips, on my--" Jeff swallows, unties the tie on his dressing gown, and exposes himself. "Your hands on my cock, Tom. I love it, can't stay still, really, in spite of you inside me. Fucking me." 

"Yes," Tom pants, and he sounds close, in a way that makes Jeff's own cock pulse with the need to be touched. "How--how do we. End." 

"I'd--be done embarrassingly fast, all over the bed," Jeff says, honest and open and staring at his leaking cock. He doesn't want to get distracted, wants to savor this experience completely without distraction. "I think--on my face. I'd want you to come on my face." 

"Messy," Tom says, like he finally realizes what that means. There are no more moans, just those low, needy whines. "Fuck. You'd--really let me?" 

"Yes," Jeff says. "Tom, I want you to come. _While_ thinking about coming on my face. Can you do that?" 

"Fuck," Tom says, and pants. "Just give me an image." 

"My mouth open, eyes looking up at you. Come on my face, Tom." 

The moan is unmistakable, and Jeff's cock pulses in response, the head darkening. He bites his own lip against any sound, so he can truly remember this, remember the way Tom dissolves into incoherent babbles of curses and filler words until he moans once more and there, there it is. Only panting after accompanied by occasional sighs.

Gorgeous, Jeff thinks, listening intently. 

"Fuck," Tom says, in a slightly more human voice. "That was--"

"Excellent," Jeff says, pleased. "That was _fucking_ excellent. I look forward to next week." 

"Jeff, don't--" Tom's saying, but Jeff's already hanging up, refusing to let this become something other than a rare moment to be mutually treasured and longed for, for the rest of their lives. 

And now, he thinks, staring at his still-hard cock, a shower.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is about [that one gifset](https://thunderbend.tumblr.com/post/177842132949/a-very-very-tender-lover-im-sure-im-positive).


End file.
